


you've never seen the night

by Ethereally



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Past Racism, Past Xenophobia, Post-Game, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Storytelling as a Coping Mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally
Summary: "I've got one last story to tell you before I go. Once upon a time, there lived a prince named Khalid in a distant land..."Claude has one last burden to share with Marianne before he leaves for Almyra.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 17
Kudos: 59





	you've never seen the night

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe intsys gave us all this info about claude and never included it in the actual game, so i had to take matters into my own hands

It takes a while for sleep to find Claude. He tosses and turns for hours, kicks off the blanket and then pulls it back on again, the words “It's over, it's over,” spilling from his lips like a mantra, it's over, _the war is over_. He can scarcely believe the sound of his voice, but Marianne listens patiently to his ramblings; she rubs circles into Claude's back as he speaks, but soon her nods of agreement turn into her nodding off. Claude laughs, kissing her forehead before offering her the gift of silence. He stares into the ceiling as he's sprawled out on his back.

Rest finally claims him, though, and relief washes over Claude like a soft blanket. For the first time in years, Claude sleeps relatively undisturbed, Marianne's arms wrapped around him and her head resting on his shoulder. His dreams are mostly silent save for the sound of his almost-lover's voice. In the moments between sleep and waking, it matters not what he can do for the world or what he has accomplished. All that matters are him and Marianne, curled around one another in such safety that he has not indulged in for longer than he can remember. In her arms Claude feels an unfamiliar sense of warmth, a different kind of danger, a vulnerability that he's never allowed himself to get used to. Claude's never liked leaving things to chance, but he's hedging his bets-- Marianne is never going to hurt him.

Morning breaks to the sound of birds singing, and warm light pouring in through the curtains. Claude's eyes open with a flutter, not a jolt, and they blink awake to the sight of Marianne still sleeping. She's usually first of the Golden Deer to rise, saying her prayers to the Goddess for a safe battle ahead, but in the first morning of peacetime, he supposes that they're both allowed to be indulgent. This will hopefully be the first of many more indulgent mornings to come. Claude presses his lips against hers, gently so she doesn't smell his morning breath. Brown eyes flicker open in surprise. Claude smiles, rubbing their noses together and hand lacing into her hair.

“Good morning, Marianne,” he says.

She blinks back at him. “What-- what time is it now?” she asks, voice a soft haze. “Am I-- are we late?”

Claude shakes his head, pulling Marianne in closer. “Late for what? We don't have anywhere we need to be, Marianne.”

“I... Oh,” she mumbles, pulling the blankets closer to her face. Somehow, Claude has a feeling that she's never been one for sleeping in. He strokes her hair, playing with it as it falls in waves below her shoulders. They've got to savor this moment, while it lasts: he's planning to return to Almyra in the evening, once he's said his final goodbyes and packed up the rest of his belongings. Time stops for no-one, and he can't afford to pause, either. And he'd warned Marianne of this days ago, before she agreed to spend the night-- but she'd been the one to insist, to declare nervously that she'd rather have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

Luckily, Claude has always believed in finding ways to have your cake and eat it.

He's been tinkering with an idea for the last week or so, catching the silvers of a thought that he can barely bring himself to materialize. And even if he's just stared a legend in the eye and told him he'd _see him in hell_ , the idea of being exposed is enough to make bile spring to the back of his throat. Marianne cups his face with a calloused hand, and Claude continues to play with her hair. It's now or never, really; this will be their last morning together, but hopefully just for a while. Marianne frowns.

“Claude? You seem distant... Is everything all right?”

“It is,” he says. Claude isn't lying, even if his secret churns at the pit of his stomach. He's never been better, and it must be some sort of milestone that he's found someone from Fódlan that he'd like to share his past with.

He takes a deep breath, and the words stumble from his mouth.

“Hey. Know what you should do? Call me Khalid.”

“Kha-- Khalid?” Marianne speaks his name back to him, the word strange and foreign on her tongue. Her eyes widen with surprise, but she speaks the syllables back with the right tone and cadence, with a reverence to the language that he can't imagine many from Fódlan would afford.

Claude nods, the pit of nerves still simmering in his chest.

“Yeah. That's my name-- my other name.” Somehow, calling it his real name seems ingenuous, not when he's lived and walked and talked for so many years as Claude. There are days when his Almyran name feels so foreign, so transient that it could slip through his fingers: it feels much realer now he's heard it through the voice of someone else. He wants to grab Marianne by the shoulders, to beg her to say it again and again like a prayer, but he knows he has more explaining to do. Claude pulls away from her, resting his hands on his stomach and lying on his back. He closes his eyes, and a harsh voice from the past creeps out to jeer at him.

_Pathetic. You just united a continent, and you can't even tell your crush the truth without trying to run away from it?_

Claude swats the voice away. Somehow, he'd rather draw his bow against Nemesis again.

“I've got one last story for you.”

Marianne pulls herself closer towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder. She gives him a firm grip and reassuring nod, and that's all the strength Claude needs to continue. He squeezes her hand, toying with her fingers, but his gaze still doesn't meet hers.

“Not so long ago, there was a little boy. His name was...” Claude's breath hitches in his throat, “Is Khalid. He lived in a beautiful faraway land, where the sun always smiles and the plains stretch out for miles on end. Khalid lived in a palace with his father, mother, and half-siblings, and on the outside, it looked like he had everything he ever wanted. He was a prince, after all. What more could he dream of?”

Marianne's mouth parts in shock, and a smile tugs at Claude's lips. Surprise, surprise.

“Only it wasn't all that rosy. Remember the boy that I told you about in my last story, who came from a despised lineage? Khalid's story is... Basically that. He wanted to bridge the gap between the world he lived in, and the outside world, but it wasn't so easy. He was,” Claude pauses, and something like a knife twists in his gut, “He was shunned and ostracized not just by outsiders, but by his own family. His half-siblings called him all manner of curses, names... Things far worse than you could imagine. For a long time, Khalid couldn't understand why they were so cruel. He wanted to be strong, but he'd cry about it whenever he was pushed. H- he hated feeling like that. Feeling so powerless, you know? So he decided to escape. He thought it was the only thing he could do to survive: to run-- run like a coward.”

Marianne's brow knots. “I don't think you're a coward,” she says, and Claude can't help but be proud of how firm, how decisive she sounds. He shakes his head, and turns around to face her. His grips her hand so tightly he feels like he might break it.

“That didn't stop him from feeling like a coward at the time. But Khalid's mom would speak of her hometown when he was growing up. She'd tell him about a quieter, grayer land where there were forests and hills, where the trees shed their leaves and the skies weren't afraid to cry. It sounded like a magical, faraway place, and Khalid knew that there was a part of him that came from there-- so maybe he should go there, to where he belonged. So he told his mother where he was going, and with her blessing he mounted his wyvern and flew far, far away. In this new land, he'd be a new person. And so he changed his name... He became Claude.”

Marianne nods intently, but remains silent as Claude continues to speak.

“Claude thought that things would be better in this new land. And as luck would have had it, he had a Crest, which meant that he'd be the new heir of House Riegan, if he liked. But in the first few nights when he sat down to dinner, he heard how people talked about his old home. People who were supposed to be his friends calling his people savage and uncivilized when they thought he wasn't listening. Others sneering at him and telling him they couldn't trust him because he'd appeared out of nowhere. It seemed--”

Claude's voice hitches in his throat, and his heart begins to race twenty times faster. Even if he's wrapped in blankets, he feels cold and exposed, like he could be pounced upon at any moment.

“It-- it seemed like no-one would ever accept him for who he was. So he started to build walls around him. To become so strong, so untouchable that no-one could hurt him any more. And then to destroy the barrier between his old world and his new world, so that where he came from wouldn't matter. Because Claude was brave and independent and didn't need anyone's approval. He could be as flippant and controversial as he wanted, as long as it got him closer to his goals. Maybe that way he could... That way he could leave Khalid behind.”

He studies Marianne's face, watching her expression intently. She's biting the inside of her cheek; he knows she's carefully choosing the right words to say. Finally, she settles on this.

“I'm... I'm sorry that you-- that he felt that way. I know people weren't exactly kind to you, but I never knew just how bad it got.”

Claude nods. “Yeah,” he says, voice beginning to trail off. “At the same time, I-- Claude couldn't necessarily blame them, even if it didn't mean they were right. That's what happens when prejudice is baked into the system. Didn't mean that Claude felt any less alone. But time passed, and war broke out. And Claude was the new heir to the Leicester Alliance, so he had to defend his... Well, you know this part of the story,” he says with a laugh. “But there's something else about it that I haven't told you about.”

Marianne blinks back, surprised. “What is it?”

“As Claude and his newfound friends fought side by side, he started to learn that maybe it wasn't so bad to lean on other people. There was a boy who painted so beautifully, who'd stay up with Claude to discuss strategies late into the night. A boy who'd started out as a political rival, who stood watch at Claude's tent to protect him from enemies during the war. A girl who'd seen far too much for her young age, who took a blow meant for her lover even if he was from a despised land-- and a beautiful girl, with hair blue as the ocean, who was the first person to listen to his story,” Claude said, leaning in to stroke Marianne's cheek, “And who made him feel like maybe... Maybe he didn't have to be so alone.”

Marianne flushes, and Claude laughs. She's become so much bolder as of late, confessing to him and asking him if he'd be hers-- but it's nice to know that he can still fluster Marianne when he tries. She leans in, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You didn't have to tell me all that, you know,” she says. Claude shakes his head.

“Nah, I did. It was important in hindsight. You were the first person to know anything about me... Not the Professor, not Hilda, not Lorenz. It was you, and even though I said a lot of crap about casting our burdens aside, I was really being selfish as well. I was offloading something onto you, because I thought it might help... But also because I knew you wouldn't tell anyone. At the same time, I started to wonder if you'd like to get to know the rest of me. To know Khalid, and the person I was before even that. Because no matter how far I've run, he's still me, you know?”

“Would you... Would you prefer I called you _only_ Khalid, then?” Marianne asks.

“Nah,” Claude says. Now it's his turn to give Marianne's cheek a small peck. “I thought about it, but I'm still Claude. I've been Claude for the last six, seven years now? And even if 'Claude' was kind of a big fabrication, I think he's become pretty damn real in his own right. So you can call me both.”

Marianne nods. “Okay, Khalid-- Claude.” She smiles. “I think I can do that.”

“Thank you,” Claude says in response. His heart is still racing: even if he knew that Marianne would be nothing but receptive to his story, opening up to someone like this is still the scariest thing he's ever done. He rests his head against her chest so he can hear her heartbeat; and he's never been more glad that Marianne is still alive than in this moment. “I should start packing soon, shouldn't I? You'll come visit me. And I'll visit you back.”

Despite his words, Claude remains unmoving, especially when Marianne's arms wrap around his waist.

“Stay with me a little longer,” she whispers. “You deserve to rest, my Khalid.”

**Author's Note:**

> "what did you mean when you mentioned claude being someone else before he was khalid?" claude is trans
> 
> this is written from my own experiences about cultural displacement and assimilation, but i am not brown myself. so i'd like to extend a big, BIG thank you to [bushra](http://twitter.com/celicalms) for sensitivity reading this - i really appreciate it.
> 
> find me on twitter at @gautired! and if you enjoyed this fic, feel free to give it a [retweet](https://twitter.com/gautired/status/1241909644252942337?s=20).


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